Eat, Drink, and Make Merry
by silver tears85
Summary: Even now, with the end of the world on the horizon, or at the very least, his end, Dean can't own up. Destiel anguish (Cause apparently angst doesn't mean what I thought it did.)(Tag, Season 5 episode 2. Don't read if not at that point, unless you want spoilers. Slight in the story, big ones in the Author's Note)


It was their last night on Earth, much as Dean didn't want to admit it (out loud).

It was in his nature to laugh things off, a defense mechanism that seemed to do more harm than good.

As much as he respected her though, getting into Jo's pants _was_ on his bucket list and who could blame him? What was he to do?

Of course, the only thing that earned him was that very respect being exponentiated substantially and he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn't expected it.

He smiled fondly into his beer. He'd miss her.

"Dean."

He'd recognize that voice anywhere. He turned around, back against the counter, arms folded in a typical b-boy stance. If he didn't feel brave, he'd damn sure act it. It's what got him this far.

"Sup, Cas? You lookin' for some "last night on Earth" perks? If that's the case, you're barking up the wrong tree. I have my self respect, after all, and-"

" _Dean."_

Something in his eyes, or maybe it was the way he said his name like the most sacred prayer, like the name meant something, like it's important to him, something stopped him cold. It made the walls-that one at least- fall, if only briefly.

Dean swallowed, mouth anticipatorily dry. "Yeah, Cas?"

The angel in question looked down. He looked innocent, unassuming- afraid?

But as quick as it was there, it was gone. As quick as he looked down, he looked back up, meeting the hunter's eyes resolutely. He closed the distance between them, until they were mere, trivial inches apart.

It alarmed him how accustomed to this he was. How this seemed so right.

"Dean." Castiel says again, and _No, not that. Anything but that. Please._

Dean's not ready, and he doesn't know if he ever will be. _(Probably not,_ he thinks grimly, s _eeing as there isn't gonna be an ever or anything after tonight, not for him._ )

"Dean, I-"

"You know what, Cas? I got it. I know." He says, because he can and he does.

He knows. Gods, does he know, but he can't bear to hear it, to speak it, to _confirm it._

"You do?"

"Yeah, I know." He says, his escape looking more and more likely. " Y-you don't have to say anything."

"Of course you do." Says the angel almost witheringly, and Dean starts to think that this is somehow worse. Cas is looking at him, blue eyes scrutinizing, searching his for _something._ He doesn't know what but he hopes like hell that he doesn't find it.

"It's funny, no one ever has to say anything, do they?" His tone's more bitter than the last coffee he had and Dean wants to puke.

He knows what he's hinting at, knows knows knows and damn does he hate that he knows.

"Just so you know Dean, unsaid words and feelings don't just go away. They grow and gain power, till they're barbs and chains, hooking themselves into every crevice of your soul and **pulling**. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Right there, the way he eyes his lips, _right there_ and Dean swears that he's leaning forward and refuses to admit that his eyes are fluttering, refuses to berate or even acknowledge his treacherous mind, baring his secrets , his want, his **need** and the fact that it was never Jo he wanted in his bed tonight, all there for the angel to see.

As if he hadn't already.

There's warmth and there's Cas and there's him and not knowing where one ends and the other begins-they're so flush. Then there's cold, and there's shame and a self-deprecating smile, broken only by a beer's welcomed escape.

"Attaboy, Cas. Attaboy."

* * *

Blame it on the Ne-e-e-et, the Ne-e-etflix. Seriously, I wrote this (well finished it) at 10:15 last night. Honestly. Not gonna lie, I read (through Wikipedia) all of season 3, most of season 4 and some of season 5. This series is so bloody **long**. But I'll be a good girl from now own. *childishly* I promwise. *pouts adorably*

Loved it? Review. Hated it. Review. (Constructively please, otherwise it shall be disregarded and you will have wasted precious seconds of your life. As you know, those are non-refundable.) I love to hear back from readers, whether you've read works by me before or not.

(The 'barbs and chains' thing was not a reference to Dean's time in hell, just fyi.I was referring to how Dean is always telling Sam its ok and that he doesn't have to say anything and yet the same problems come back up over and over, because that dirty laundry hasn't been done or aired.) Also, I'm gonna miss Jo and Ellen like hell. Be free to check out my other stories, you may find a pairing there you like. I'm also posting a frostiron story for anyone interested.


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